The Inglorious Bastard
by Chandac
Summary: Jon Snow has defeated the Night King and sits on the Iron Throne, yet he is as unhappy as ever. This will have a mixture of both books and show (gross I know) canon. Warnings: This is a dark Jon and Arya romance story. I would strongly recommend not reading this story if you are a Daenarys fan, Jonerys fan, have problems with dubious consent, and don't like to read characters who
1. Chapter 1

"Remember who you are Daenarys. The dragons know. Do you?"

There was a time when Daenarys could have confidently answered that question. She had been Daenarys Stormborn, the Dragon's Daughter.

Daenarys of the House Targaryen, the blood of Old Valyria, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of Meereen, the Unburnt, and the Breaker of Chains.

Daenarys the first of her name, Queen of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

But that had been many years ago, far before the Long Night. Long before Daenarys Stormborn had met a dark-haired stranger carrying the name Jon Snow. She could still remember the day that she had set her eyes on Jon Snow. He, the King in the North, had come to her at Dragonstone, pleading for her help in a fight against the army of the dead. An army that she hadn't believed to exist. Daenarys hadn't thought much of him at the time. The King in the North had worn a solemn face with scars and was only of a medium height. He had not strutted as Drogo once had nor had he swaggered as Daario would. No, Jon Snow had stepped carefully into Daenarys' court, and the rest of her life had never been the same.

She had felt so inadequate in his presence.

From the moment her advisors had laid their eyes on him, she could sense their allegiances changing. Varys and Tyrion immediately had found a new ruler that they wanted to serve. The King in the North had spoken with such conviction and wisdom. He was beloved by his people and quickly her's as well.

But most of all, Daenarys had fallen in love with him and his brooding face. She had loved him when he took her into the cave of Dragonstone to show her the drawings of the Children of the Forest. She had loved him when he gathered the nerve to touch her son Drogon. She had loved him when he had finally bent the knee and pledged the North to her.

Daenarys had been so certain that Jon Snow would be her last mount, the mount for love.

He had been her counterpart. When she had bore their son Rhaegar into the world, she had known with every fiber of her being, that they were meant to be together. Stark and Targaryen, Wolf and Dragon, King and Queen.

But then came the Long Night and with it, broken dreams.

The battle had lasted what had felt like a lifetime. She remembered the foreboding sense that the Night King would defeat them once and for remembered looking at the masses down from Drogon's back. She had spent nearly every minute of the battle searching the grounds for Jon, in the midst of the fire, smoke, and snow.

Her heart had nearly stopped when she saw Jon from afar, surrounded by an army of wights. No one had been around to protect their king, not the Northern soldiers, Jon's direwolf Ghost, nor anyone from Jon's army. Daenarys recalled a scream, whether it was her's or drogon's she would never know.

She had clutched Drogon's scales and prayed that he could reach her to Jon as quickly as possible, to save him just in time with fire.

But someone else had beaten her there.

A small brown-haired girl had charged into the battle on the back of a giant monstrous wolf and an army of thousands of smaller wolves. The wolf had howled at the top of its lungs and somewhere on the other side of the ice field, Ghost had howled had watched as the wolves tore the bodies of the wights apart and protected Jon. She had watched the look of awe on her husband's face as the girl wielded a large sword. She watched as they stopped to look at each other once the wights had been destroyed, and that was when her heart broke. Jon had smiled so widely and grabbed the girl in his arms. He had picked her up and buried himself in her shoulders, while she hugged him around his shoulders. They were lost within each other's arms and had no care in the world for the chaos that ensued in front of them, while the girl's wolf stayed guard.

Daenarys had turned Drogon away from the sight of them and had returned to burning groups of the the others. She had never seen Jon look so happy in the time that she had known him.

He had never smiled at her that way. He hadn't even smiled like that when Rhaegar came screaming into the had turned behind slightly to see if Jon and the girl were still in an embrace, but they had pulled apart, finally. Jon had moved away to a group of white walkers while the girl fought more wights with her wolf.

Jon had gone back to focusing on the war. It should have brought her relief, but Daenarys couldn't help feeling cross. Her husband was most likely going to die in this battle, as was she, and he had spent some of his last moments in the arms of another woman.

And she was right.

The Night King had met Daenarys in the air on the back of her beloved Viserion. Drogon had cried out in anger when he saw what had become of his brother. She had never felt the fire in her body burn as hot as it had in that son was being ridden like a slave by his own hadn't even opened her mouth to command "Dracarys," when Drogon had already unleashed his flames. Viserion had instantly responded with his own ice, which began the dance of and the Night King fought in the skies as Jon and his army fought in the ground. Drogon had been winning and Daenarys was so certain that he would defeat Viserion and put an end to his misery.

But then there was a loud uproar.

She looked down and saw Jon laying in the snow surrounded by many of his men.

"It can't be."

"What are we to do without him"

"There's nothing to do, we're going to die you fuckers."

"We may as well kill as many of them as we can."

In the very next moment, a bolt had pierced Drogon's eye and Daenarys felt herself falling from the skies. She had braced herself as her heart had pumped furiously.

She couldn't lose Drogon now, not when she had just lost Jon.

Drogon had been wounded many times in battle, surely her son would survive this time as well. Her strong, beautiful, black dread of a son.

But he hadn't. Her largest son had laid in the midst of the field bleeding and Daenarys had watched as the light left his eyes.

A girl had come running over, the girl that had saved Jon.

Tears had been streaming down her face, but her eyes were filled with rage."You need to burn him. Now!" the girl had instructed, as she fought off two wights that charged at them.

"He's my son!" Daenarys had barked back.

"They'll do to him what they did to your other dragon. Hurry! We lost Jon but you can still finish this," the girl yelled as she breathed heavily.

Daenarys had clutched Drogon's face protectively.

"Who are you and how do you know my dragons?" she had demanded at the girl.

How do you know Jon? She wanted to ask.

The girl had stared at Daenarys and suddenly Daenarys felt uneasy, like the girl was reading into her mind.

"I'm Arya of Winterfell, and you need to burn that dragon before the Night King takes this one too," she said with caution.

Daenarys had watched as Arya of Winterfell charged back into the battle.

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah had interrupted her from behind. "She's right. You have to burn him. You must.""He's my child. When I burn him, he'll be no more. He's all I have left of him- of Drogo," she whispered as she brushed the tears from her eyes. "And now Jon's gone and I can't win this battle. I've failed my people, my kingdom."

"Look ahead of you, Khalessi," Ser Jorah advised. "If I look back, I am lost" Daenarys had agreed.

"No Daenarys, look!" Ser Jorah had looked up and her jaw had dropped. Rhaegal was engaged in combat with Viserion and before Daenarys could scream for him to flee and save himself, her body froze.

Jon was alive and riding Rhaegal. How? Daenarys had thought.

Jon was of the North, the son of Lord Eddard Stark. He didn't have a trace of Valyrian blood in him. Rhaegal had never allowed anyone to ride him, not even herself, his own mother.

She watched as Jon leapt from Rhaegal's back to Viserion's. You valiant fool. Daenarys thought furiously. A bonded dragon would never let Jon ride him, not even an ice dragon. The Night King had instantly grabbed his spear, ready to pierce Jon, when suddenly Jon pulled out a small dagger and rammed it through the Night King's gut. There was a crack that Daenarys was positive was heard across the entire field, as the Night King shattered to hundreds of pieces and the light from Viserion's icy blue eyes vanished. Her dragon's lifeless body came crashing down onto the ground as Jon came down with him.

The entire army of the dead stopped moving and suddenly all of their bodies started to fall as did it. We've won. I can finally rule now. The seven kingdoms are finally mine.

How wrong she had been.

Every bit of Jon had died in the battle and when he came back resurrected, he had become a stranger to her once it was all over, he had declared himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms, a betrayal that Daenarys could have never predicted.

She had protested it. He was a Stark, he had no claim to the throne that was rightfully her's. But Brandon Stark of Winterfell had shocked everyone when he had announced that Jon was the trueborn son of her brother Rhaegar and his Northern girl had watched as all of the lords of Westeros had placed their swords in front of Jon.

The throne is mine, she had wanted to scream. But in her heart of hearts she knew it was a lie. Jon was born before her, was Rhaegar's son, and he had the only dragon left in the world, was the last dragon.

Worst of all, Jon wasn't her Jon anymore. Whatever he had seen on the other side had made him as hard as ice. She would try and lie with him at night, but he would turn all of her touches away. She had hoped to give him another son as pretty as Rhaegar. She thought that another child could possibly melt Jon's new walls and make him return to her. But it was impossible to when Jon refused to share her bed could still remember the day of Jon's coronation vividly.

Jon had worn a sigil of a wolf and a dragon on his armour when they were alone in the royal chambers. "You musn't wear another sigil with the three headed dragon. One might think that you're claiming House Stark as having equal status as House Targaryen. It may send the wrong message," Daenarys had advised him. "I'm as much a Stark as I am a Targaryen," Jon had responded, gruffly, making it explicitly clear to Daenarys that her advice was unwanted.

When they had walked into the throne room, Tyrion's voice had boomed across it. "All hail His Grace, Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

She remembered feeling rage when all of the lords of Westeros had had no problem kneeling to Jon. The same lords who she had tried so hard to pledge fealty to her. The only kingdom that Jon seemed truly worried for was the North.

Daenarys had been so certain that the Northerners would still want to remain independent from the other kingdoms. But to everyone's shock, including Jon's, Brandon Stark had knelt.

He had sworn his fealty to the new King of the seven kingdoms, leaving Daenarys with a bitter taste in her mouth. How easy it had been for Jon to win the North when she had fought so hard for it Daenarys could still remember vividly what her lord husband had asked for next.

As if Brandon Stark hadn't offered him enough. Jon had asked for Arya Stark to be sent to King's lord of Winterfell hadn't looked surprised. He had asked his grace why he wanted his sister to be in the capitol in a knowing manner.

"Arya was always my favorite sister, my lord. This is not a secret to anyone. It would please me if she were here in Kings Landing. I fear it's been too long that we've been apart and I would like to spend some more time with her. I believe that she could be happy at King's Landing and it would ensure good faith between the houses of Stark and Targaryen, would it not my lord?" Jon had responded so convincingly that Daenarys knew that Brandon Stark could not object in front of the other lords of Westeros.

Her lord husband had gotten another one of his wishes. Brandon Stark had sent Arya to King's Landing on the morrow and she had been taken straight to Jon.

That had all been four years ago.

Daenarys now stood in front of her solar in her empty chamber, reading the raven that had been sent to her from Sunspear.

"I write with news, your grace. The Lady Arya Stark has been found in Dorne. How do you wish for me to proceed?

Yours,Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell"

Daenarys Stormborn took a seat on her bed.

The dragons know. Do you?


	2. Chapter 2

_Four years past_

" _Ghost"_

"Leave his body there."

"And what of the brother of the watch? We can't just leave the lord commander on the snow."

"Leave him, let everyone know that we killed Lord Snow."

He could not feel the wounds. If there had been pain from the cuts, they did not appear to affect him.

No, he felt strong and lethal. He could tear all of their throats now if he wanted to, and he did. He wanted that flesh and meat more than anything. He wanted to feast on the blood of these more than anything. But now was not the time. If he made himself known, they had the numbers to slay him.

He quietly treaded away to the chambers of Lord Davos Seaworth.

He barked at the door until it finally opened.

Lord Davos hadn't been expecting the wolf.

He growled and barked and ran back outside. The lord followed him.

Lord Davos saw the lord commander's body and immeidiately dragged him through the snow.

He stood guard.

Finally Davos had brought him in.

Days had past. How many he had lost cont.

Men in black walked the castle. Men who had been his brothers. Men who stared back at him fearfully now.

"We ought to get rid of the wolf. There's no point in having a wolf that don't listen to ye here."

"I always wanted to slay the great beast myself."

"Your moment has come, Thorne."

He growled ferociously. Many stepped back in fear. Many didn't.

The white wolf raised his head and howled loudly to the moon.

Somewhere in the distance, somewhere he couldn't place, a wolf howled back. Soon after, a loud chorus of wolf howls began.

Now all of the men had stepped back in fear.

"Come now, Thorne. You can have your way with the wolf on the morrow. There are wolves prowling now."

The white wolf threw his head back once more and joined the music of wolves in the night.

The wolves had come again.

Blood ran down his mouth. He gorged on the meat of men.

Skin, flesh, fear. He could taste it all with every bite.

They had once been brothers of his in a different life. Now they were his enemy.

He heard two men walking between the trees.

He tromped quietly in the woods. They would never be able to be able to hear him. Nor would they be able to see him with all the snow.

"Did the lad say his name?"

"He looked like a lowborn serving boy to me."

"Aye but what of his name? Is he of the North?"

"He said his name was Reek, but Jeren said he has another name. Theon Greyjoy."

His ears rose. He had once known a green boy of the name Theon Greyjoy.

"What's a Greyjoy doing at the wall? It's a long way from the Iron Islands."

"You don't know? He was to be Ramsay Bolton's steward, though the common talk has it that he was much more."

"Are you telling me that Lord Bolton fucked his bunghole? 

"Worse. He cut his cock off."

"That still don't explain what an ironborn eunuch is doing at the wall."

"He said that he brought the Lady of Winterfell with him. He said something about needing to keep her safe and that her brother the Lord Commander would protect her."

"Jon Snow's sister?"

"Arya Stark."

The white wolf froze in the snow. It could not be. There was no chance in seven hells that she was here. Not now, surely the gods couldn't be this cruel.

"Who told her that her brother's dead."

His heart raced.

"Satin."

He ran to the castle.

He had to find her.

 _"I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will."_

His blood pulsed. They had married her to the bastard. He had laid her on his bed and taken her maidenhead. How many times he had forced himself on her, he did not want to know.

She was here now and he would never leave her side.

I don't need my swords. I will still come for you, bastard. I will tear your bastard's throat out and gorge on your muscle. I will make you rue the day you ever set eyes on Arya Stark.

He ran for the castle.

Where is my sister? Where is she?

He quickly prowled through the castle. What chamber did they have her in? Who was she with?

They wouldn't just put Lord Eddard Stark's daughter anywhere. No, she was far too valuable. They would keep her with several guards.

He eventually found a door with three guards standing watch.

"Off with you."

He growled.

"Let him pass, what do we care what the wolf does with her. She's already been given to the hounds plenty of times."

What did they do to you little sister?

The door opened. He trotted into the room quietly.

The room was empty, save for a girl in a bed with covers over her head.

She was here. This was not a wolf dream. She was here.

He yelped in excitement.

She did not take the covers off but it did not matter.

He ran onto her bed and climbed on top of her, panting and wagging his tail.

The covers came off slowly, but she clutched them in fear.

Why are you afraid? Can you not see that it is me?

Her hair was a dull brown. Her pale skin had bruises all over it. She was skinny as he had last seen her.

His breath caught in his throat.

Little sister.

And then his insides burned. His grey eyes met with a pair of brown eyes.

"Please, please…" Vayon Poole's daughter whispered.

He growled at Jeyne Poole.

His little sister was lost to him once more.

"They put a knife through his chest, their own black brother. Why?"

"We know why, they don' like us here. Jon Snow let us pass across the wall."

"That's not enough to kill our lord commander."

"Jon Snow meant to march to Winterfell."

"Winterfell, why? I thought he had sent Mance Rayder there."

"Aye, Jon Snow had read this letter."

"A letter?"

"I don' read very much myself."

"Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore.

Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me.

I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell.

I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want this wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it.

Ramsay Bolton, Trueborn Lord of Winterfell."

"Small wonder why Jon wanted to march South."

"What do we do now? If we open that door, Thorne will burn his body and that will be the end. I'll die before I open it."

"There's only one person who could help us."

"The Red Woman."

"The Red Woman? Is she kissed by fire like I am? She would be lucky."

"She worships the fire god… she has powers. I don't know if she can help, but we have no choice now."

"Get the red woman, Davos. I'll stand guard."

He opened his eyes.

Stannis Baratheon's red priestess took a sharp breath.

Tormund Giantsbane looked as if he had saw a ghost come to life.

Everything came rushing back to him all at once.

Arya, Ramsay Bolton, Stannis, Arya, Mance, the wildlings, Arya, Ghost, the knives.

 _Stick em' with the pointy end._

"Lord Commander Snow?" asked Lord Davos Seaworth, tentatively.

"Gather the remainder of our forces, Lord Davos. I plan to march to Winterfell tonight."

He had taken Winterfell back in several days time. Somehow, the Knights of the Vale had ended up marching North at the right time. Jon and Sansa had taken back Winterfell together.

Their reunion had been awkward. Sansa and he had never been close when they had been children. It was good to see his sister, but he could not help but wish that Bran or Rickon were here with them too.

And Arya.

Jon still was not ready to give up on her.

He had asked the Bolton's maester to gather every girl in Winterfell for him.

"Bring me every girl in the castle to the great hall. If I found that you've kept even one from me, I'll have your head on a pike faster than you can say Dreadfort. Do you hear me?"

"Yes my lord."

 _I am not your lord._ Jon thought to himself, bitterly. I am the bastard of Winterfell.

After the maester had given him word, Jon entered the great hall.

The hall had a mob of children and women, both highborn and lowborn.

"We can divide them up. You can look at half, while I look at the other," suggested Sansa.

"No," said Jon, firmly. "I will look at everyone of them my self."

Sansa looked insulted. "She's my sister too, Jon."

"And you did a great job taking care of her in Kings Landing," replied Jon, gruffly.

"I was just a child! You don't know what it was like to be a prisoner. I couldn't have done anything for her," exclaimed Sansa.

"Keep telling yourself if that makes you feel less guilty. All I know is that Arya went missing, when she was in Kings Landing with you, and you did nothing to look after her."

"Not one girl is to leave this hall until I have given the order," he said to Davos.

"Do you presume yourself Lord of Winterfell, Jon to be giving such orders?" said Sansa.

"I won Winterfell by conquest and I intend to hold it until its heir is back to hold it himself. Last I checked, the heir to Winterfell is Bran, Sansa," Jon said, his voice as hard as steel.

That seemed to finally shut his sister up.

Jon spent hours looking at every girl that had been brought forward to him one by one. Not one of them was his beloved little sister.

He wanted to feel better. It should have brought him comfort that Arya had not been in Winterfell all this time. Ramsay Bolton had never wedded and bedded her.

But it didn't. If Arya was not in Winterfell, she was still lost to him in this world. Was she even alive? What would she think of him taking their father's place and Robb's place at Winterfell? Would she even recognize the monster that he had become?

I am all that I am for you, little sister. I died for you. I took back the North for you.

I will see you home with me if that's the last thing I'll ever do. I swear it by the gods of our father.

"Jon," Davos interrupted his brooding thoughts.

"You have to take care of the Bolton."

Jon's thoughts turned from brooding to savage once more.

"Did they bring him to my chambers as I commanded," he gritted through his teeth.

Davos bowed his head. "They brought him just as you requested."

"Good, I will see to him myself," said Jon.

"Ghost, with me."

Ramsay Bolton was tied to the stone walls, when Jon entered the room with Ghost.

His arms and feet were outstretched and tied tightly with rope.

His face had been battered from Jon's assault during the battle, but Jon had requested to have the stewards clean him.

Now, Ramsay's face lit up as Jon sauntered into the room.

"Are we starting the fun now? I was getting terribly bored in here, all alone."

Ghost snarled at him.

Jon stood before Ramsay and unsheathed his sword, Longclaw.

"No, don't tell me that we're ending the fun so quickly," the Bolton said, indignantly. "Please tell me you aren't to give me a just, honorable end with a quick blow of that sword to my skull."

Jon smirked.

"This?" He gestured at the sword. "No." He tossed the sword onto the lord's bed.

"I have many plans for you, bastard, none of which are quick."

"Oh, you've come to play!" Ramsay Bolton squealed, his eyes filled with glee.

"I have," said Jon. "Ghost bring me only his arm."

The white wolf lunged forward and grotesquely ripped into the prisoner's arm.

Screams filled the lord's chambers, and Jon was certain that the entire castle could hear Ramsay Bolton's screams.

 _Good._

"Do you know where we are, bastard?" Jon asked, calmly. Ghost trodded back with the arm in his mouth and laid it into Jon's hand.

He tossed it aside and licked the blood from his own fingertips.

Ramsay glared at him and painfully said, "In… my chambers." Blood gushed from the joints where his arm once was.

Jon laughed darkly.

"You proclaimed yourself the Lord of Winterfell, the Warden of the North. You dared to take my father's titles and my family's home."

Jon took out a blade and held it to Ramsay's shoulders. He began to tear into his skin. Screams emitted the room once more.

"Lord of Winterfell. Warden of the North. Did you think you were fooling anyone with your mummer's farce? You are a bastard. You will never be anything but a bastard."

"That's rich coming from you, bastard," spat Ramsay as he breathed heavily through his pain.

"Ghost bring me his right foot," commanded Jon.

Ghost tore into Ramsay's leg and ripped his foot off.

Jon stepped closer to the bleeding man.

"You tried to solidify your claim by marrying Arya Stark. That was another mistake of yours, bastard," Jon whispered, dangerously.

Ramsay laughed despite all of his wounds. "I thought that you and I were the same, bastard. But I was wrong, you're far vile than I could ever be," he mocked.

"You and I will never be the same," said Jon, as he took his blade and cut into Ramsay's chest, peeling off skin and throwing it to the floor. Ghost quickly ate it.

This time Ramsay Bolton spat on Jon's face.

"No, we won't. Brothers and sisters shan't touch each other ever. Even I wouldn't mock the old gods. Your sister was better off being fucked by my hounds, than to ever be fucked by you, bastard."

The last vestige of Jon's control snapped.

"Aye, I heard of what you did with your hounds. Lord Manderly, come in now."

The fat lord of White Harbor entered the chamber with the gift that Jon had asked him for.

"Thank you, my lord. Leave us," said Jon.

"Look bastard, I brought you a present."

Ramsay could barely keep his eyes open from all of the pain he was withstanding.

"Do you recognize them?" Jon asked as he ran his hands along the garment, slowly. "Look at what has become of your precious hounds."

Ramsay's eyes widened. "Impossible. My hounds would have ripped you apart if you stepped near them."

Jon chuckled. "Indeed, but hounds don't hold up very well against a direwolf."

He stepped forward and wrapped the cloak around Ramsay's shoulders.

"I made you a warm cloak from all the ten hounds that I skinned," said Jon.

"That jealous were you that the hounds fucked your sister before you got your chance with her? Don't worry, bastard. I've had her plenty of times myself. You didn't miss much. I took her in that bed right over there, in her lord father's bed. Although I'm sorry to say, not once did she close her eyes and pretend that I was you."

Jon grabbed Ramsay by his throat and tightened his hold.

"You never had Arya Stark in her father's bed. Arya would have slit your throat before you could say her name. You married the steward's daughter, Jeyne Poole," Jon growled.

"You lie," said Ramsay.

"Tywin Lannister sent you the wrong girl. He didn't care about who posed as Arya Stark as long as he had control of the North," Jon replied.

Jon cut into the chest of Ramsay Bolton as the man screeched.

"You want your bride back. You want your bride back. You want your bride back," Jon taunted at him.

"Did you think that I would let you marry Arya Stark and live? Did you think that I would ever let you take my sister into your bed?"

"Ghost, his other foot!" Jon shouted. The direwolf obeyed.

" **Did you think that I would let you live after you tried to touch my sister?"**

Jon carved his blade into Ramsay's chest.

"Arya Stark was never your's. Arya Stark will never be your's. And as for the North, they'll all forget the bastard boy who married the false daughter of Lord Eddard Stark."

"Goodbye, Ramsay Snow."

THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH!

The cheers ran through the Great Hall.

The Northmen had crowned him their king. His father's bannermen had chosen him, the bastard of House Stark. They were all too pleased at him hanging Ramsay's flayed corpse outside, for all of the North to behold.

Jon had protested; he was only the bastard son of Lord Eddard. His own trueborn sister Sansa was now in Winterfell. The North was her's by right.

But Sansa had supported his claim as well.

"You are father's last living son. The Northerners will listen to you before they'd listen to me. It's just the way things are," she had said.

"I'll hold it until Bran and Rickon come back," said Jon. "Winterfell will never beling to me. It's your's, Bran's, Rickon's, and Arya's."

"You're as much a Stark as we all are, Jon."

"Perhaps, but I don't care about Winterfell. I don't care about being King in the North or Lord Commander," said Jon, morosely. "I've seen the real threat, beyond the wall. I've looked the Night King in his eyes and have seen his army. Winter is coming and I must do everything I can to prepare everyone for it."

Sansa had smiled. "You will but I don't want you to lose sight of all the other battles that are going. Cersei sits on the Iron Throne now, and we are no friends of her's. She'll destroy us the very second she can. And if she doesn't, Daenarys Targaryen, King Aerys' daughter has landed in Dragonstone and is starting her conquest of Westeros with her three dragons."

Jon turned his head to look at Sansa.

"Dragons?"

"Three fire breathing dragons."

"Do you know what this could mean for us?"

"Jon."

"Sansa, three dragons could-"

"Have you forgotten what the Targaryens did to our family? The Mad King burned our grandfather and uncle. Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and murdered our aunt. You cannot negotiate with his kin," debated Sansa, fiercely.

"With three dragons we could actually survive the war against the others," said Jon.

"There's something more, Jon," said Sansa with caution. "Something has happened in the Riverlands." Her face looked pained. "Someone, within a fortnight, invited all of the Freys who were at the Red Wedding at the Twins and killed them all at once…They're calling it another Red Wedding."

Jon's mouth had a bitter taste. "Except no Starks were killed this time," he spat.

Sansa winced. "No, but they're saying that it was a girl who killed all the Freys. They say that she left after saying the words "Tell them the north remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey."

Jon turned his head away.

"Jon," warned Sansa.

"No," he breathed with his eyes shut.

"Jon, it could have only been her. No one else would-"

"I can't," said Jon, firmly.

Sansa grabbed his arm. "You have to at least consider-"

"DON'T YOU THINK I HAVE? I THINK ABOUT HER EVERY SINGLE DAY AND NIGHT. I CAN'T KEEP CONVINCING MYSELF THAT SHE'S ALIVE, WHEN I GET PROVEN WRONG EVERY SINGLE TIME," roared Jon.

Sansa continued on boldly. "We have to hope that it's her. We are all that she has left."

"I know, Arya, Sansa. I know her far better than anyone in this world. If she were in Westeros, she would know that I'm the king in the north. Arya would never stay away from me. She is a part of me as I am a part of her."

"Then what are we to do?" asked Sansa with disappointment.

"I plan to ride for Dragonstone. I need you to stay in the North and hold it for me. You are the Stark in Winterfell, while I am gone."

"Jon, Dragonstone is not safe. You can't go."

"I must. Besides, Sansa. There's only so much that Daenarys Targaryen could do to me."


End file.
